What You Do
by MeganBethWrites
Summary: Everything about her was screaming out to be touched, to be held. Will/Santana, elements of Santana/Brittany.


First point: OK. This is a crack!ship if there ever was one. But I love me some angst and I love me some student/teacher, so what's a girl to do?

Second point: This starts somewhere in series two, although I'm not quite sure where yet. Before 'Sexy', I reckon, because Santana's still struggling with her sexuality. But yeah. It's pretty much AU.

Last point: I would recommend any hardcore Brittanna shippers/stans don't read this. I don't want to reveal too much, but it won't end well for you, although there is a _lot_ of Brittana in the main story.

Anyway, away we go!

* * *

><p>She was just so addictive.<p>

Everything about her was screaming out to be touched, to be held. It wasn't even in a sexual way, mostly – it was just depicted that way by oafish, horny high school boys. To Will, it just looked like she needed a hug.

Apparently, he was the only one who saw her that way. He was the only guy in the school who saw her as a _person_, rather than slutty Santana; cheerio, bitch, and – most of all – up for it. It infuriated him.

It wasn't restricted to the pupils, either; it was common to find various members of staff staring a little too hard in her direction during cheerio routines, or even just in _assemblies, _when she was doing nothing but sitting (and looking bored). Will could never bring himself confront anyone about it, but it made his blood boil.

Until one day, when something inside him seemed to snap. He'd noticed Ken Tanaka – Ken, whom he considered a friend and was supposedly crushing on _Emma _– leering at her in the corridor that morning. He'd even winked at her. Will had half expected him to slap her ass she walked away.

Will had an almost uncontrollable urge to punch Ken in the face at that moment.

He impulsively called her name as the bell rang to signal the end of his junior Spanish class. "Are you on your free period next?"

"Yeah, why?" she asked, furrowing her brow and pouting slightly, not bothering to add a courteous "Mr Schue" on the end. She was fluent in Spanish, or nearly so, thanks to her heritage – she knew she couldn't be failing, so was curious to know what Mr. Schue wanted.

"I just want a word. Stay for five, please?"

She rolled her eyes, but stopped anyway, leaning against one of the front desks as the class filed out. When the door had swung shut behind the last pupil, Will approached the door, and clicked the lock in place.

Santana raised her eyebrows at him, and for a moment he thought she looked nervous.

Maybe Santana noticed his concerned expression, because she quickly snapped at him. "Something wrong?" she asked sharply, masking any doubts she might have had with her cheeky tone.

"I'm quite sure how to put this," Will said cautiously. "Please don't be offended… but, um, have you noticed that boys tend to –"

"Want to sleep with me?" Santana interjected mockingly.

"_Objectify_you?" he grimaced.

To his surprise – and slight relief – Santana laughed. She was so relieved that he was being his usual dorky, and slightly naïve, self, that she couldn't help it. "Mr Schue, I'm a Cheerio."

"Right."

"It's kind of expected. Why do you think Coach Sylvester insists on such short skirts? Why do you think we're all in full make up every day?"

Will shrugged.

"I think of it as our job. Without these looks, do you think I'd be in the cheer squad? Some of the best cheerleaders in the school have been rejected because they don't look like supermodels. We can't even qualify for nationals, never mind win the thing, without looking like we do. It's how the whole damned thing works."

Will was dumbfounded. That was just so _harsh._"I don't think that's right," was all he could say.

She laughed again, looking at him like he was a cute puppy dog or something – like he was an innocent little boy, and ridiculously naïve. He wasn't. (Was he?) "It is how it is," she said. Will couldn't help thing it was a strain not to add "sweetie" on the end of her sentence and pinch his cheeks.

Before he had a chance to comment, she turned on her heel, unclicked the lock, and left.

He was left there, stunned.

What had just happened?

The next day, Will kept a particularly close eye on Santana, wondering if his speech had made any impact on her whatsoever. At first, he thought not – she seemed to be acting pretty much the same as ever.

But during Glee, on their very last run through of My Life Would Suck Without You (a song which Will had chosen to keep on their repertoire as a token of how hard they had worked at, and after, Sectionals), he noticed something. It was small, probably insignificant to the rest of the group, but it made his heart soar.

She was dancing – perfectly, as usual – when Puck reached out to grab her ass. Normally, she wouldn't have responded, and would carry on as if nothing had happened – but she slapped him away, and gave him a death glare only she was capable of.

Will bit back a smile and averted his eyes.

For the rest of the number, and the rest of the rehearsal, Will made a point of watching Finn and Rachel. It was easier; he didn't have to suppress a smile that way. They danced well (there were a few stumbles on Finn's part, but nothing hard to fix) and he focussed on coming up with a few tips to improve their performance.

Still, though, a certain Latina girl kept creeping into his mind, and he couldn't help himself swell with pride at the thought of her. His good mood must have showed, because the Glee rehearsal went exceptionally well, and all the kids looked like they were having a good time. They laughed and danced and he and Puck broke out their guitars toward the end of the rehearsal, which lead to an impromptu version of 'Man Who Can't Be Moved' by The Script.

Everyone left on such a high that Will didn't even notice when Santana held back from the rest of the kids. He was packing up his sheet music when she spoke, the unexpected noise scaring him out of his wits.

"Mr Schue?" she called from the door. Will jolted and dropped his copy of the Hairspray score. "I just wanted to say thank you. You know, for yesterday. It's kind of nice that there's at least one guy at this school who doesn't – what was it?" She paused for a moment. "_Objectify_me."

As soon as Santana had uttered her last word, she turned on her heel and strode towards the door – it upset Will that she still couldn't be vulnerable, so tried to catch her.

He was so busy picking up his things he had to run to get to her before she got to the door. "Santana!" he shouted, grasping her shoulder so she would turn around. "First of all, when are you going to learn to open up with me?" he said, exasperated. "Second of all," he sighed, and slowed his tone a little, "I'm proud of you, OK? I know you think I'm just some dumb teacher, but I want you to know that you're special. Keep it up."

Santana flashed him an awkward smile. "You're not just a dumb teacher, Will," she said softly. "You just have a dumb taste in vests and show tunes."

Will laughed and relinquished his grasp on her shoulder. He considered saying something else, but she was out the door before he could muster up a sentence. He shook his head and returned to the piano to collect his bag.

It was only when he reached his car he realised he had seen Santana smile rather than smirk for the first time.

It was only when he got home he realised she had called him Will.


End file.
